Rejects Like Us
by Charlie Fergal
Summary: John has problems. A lot of problems. One day, he stumbles into Sherlock. Curious about this character, he befriends them. This leads to troubling roads for all characters, but none more than John, who originally thought Sherlock was a girl. Trigger warning a a few chapters. They will be marked.
1. Chapter 1

**_John's POV_**

I feel like my body has shut down. My mind keeps hiding its thoughts, my heart keeps hiding its feelings, my eyes keep altering my view, and my lungs continue concealing each breath. I roll to my side, revealing my bedroom to my wary soul. _Yet another attempt failed._ I groan to myself as I go to sit hunched over, hearing each bone in my body snap into place as I do so. Glancing at the alarm clock, I note the time to be 5.23 in the morning. _'Why bother going back to sleep?'_ I ask myself. _'I have to be up in an hour anyway.'_ I stand in the darkness of my room, desiring it to swallow me once and for all. Climbing over the sheets I have tossed on the floor from the previous nightmare, I reach my small, overly-bright restroom. The lights sting my eyes, so I flinch from their rays, stumbling over my laundry basket and into the wall. I check around to see if anyone had witnessed the embarrassment that is me. _You idiot, of course no one saw you. All the normal people are sleeping right now. _Sometimes I with I would stop breathing. But alas, every attempt fails. The rope snaps. The blade breaks. My parents find me. _Why do I have to be here? Why do I have to keep trying if I don't want to anymore? How is suicide selfish? Other people want me to stay, completely disregarding how I feel, yet I'm the selfish one. _I shove the thoughts from my head. It's better not to feel. Feelings mean pain, and Lord knows I have enough of that.

I disrobe, looking at my bare form in the mirror briefly, before stepping into the burning shower. I have the water as hot as it will go, and I sit on the floor, letting the piercing drops cut through my already open wounds in attempt to wash each and every scar away. By the time I get out, the water has been cold for a while. I wrap a towel around my waist and drag my legs out of the lit room and into the dark one. Some light is leaking though the blinds, but not much. I dry myself off in a much to thorough way and dress in my clothing for school. I have my red and navy plaid blouse with my navy blue sweater vest. _But where are my trousers?_ Not able to find the jeans I was looking for, I settle for a pair of casual looking khakis. I then look to the clock for the first time since my shower and realise it is now 7.49._ "Shit!"_ I think to myself _"I'm going to be late!"_ I flatten my hair with one hand as I attempt slipping my red converse on with the other. All this multitasking manages to do is force me from my bent over, strange position, to a face-planting one on the floor. I actually fell though my half-opened bedroom door and into the hall where my mum stood, giving me a look of bazaar questioning. We made eye contact for a second before I rolled into a sitting position, fixed my shoes, and stood up. Grabbing my book bag, I ran out of the house without saying a word.

I ran to my bus stop, only to see the bus pulling away. I sigh to myself and decide to walk to school instead. Putting my ear buds in, I press play on my iPhone and start the trek to hell. The lyrics sounding through my cluttered head seem to fit my mood perfectly. The song playing is I'm Not Okay by My Chemical Romance. "Oh well, I breath to myself, at least I have 7 hours of learning ahead of me." My sarcasm is practically visible as I spew the words from my tongue and into the atmosphere.

I reach school and the typical taunts begin. I hear a few of them over slight breaks in my music. They include the words "faggot", "gay lord", and "nerd". _Honestly, if you want to bully me, at least try to be a bit creative. Hearing the same cliches over and over is quite tedious to be truthful, though I don't mind being teased and taunted. _However, there is one boy that gets on my nerves. That boy is Greg Lestrade. He isn't even mean, but rather overly kind. So much so that he seems to be mocking you. I admit, I do have a bit of a trust issue, but tell me it's not suspicious when you are obviously hated at school, and a perfectly okay, sport-playing guy walks up to you and starts being kind. I would rather deal with being called faggot and shoved in my locker than have to juggle that with someone deciding to be nice. Besides, I learned my lesson last time someone was kind to me. Jim Moriarty was kind. He strung me along as his friend, then humiliated me in front of the whole school. He switched my clothing when I was in phys ed, so when I came back all sweaty from a rugby match, I had nothing to wear but a pair of pink booty shorts that said 'bootylicious' on the back and a skin-tight white v-neck tee-shirt. That's why all this faggot stuff comes up to this day, an entire year later.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the school bell. _At least I won't be late on the first day back._ Until, as I should have guessed, Anderson and Moriarty lock me in my locker, leaving me with a high five and a douche bag sounding laugh. _Oh well, at least it's my locker this time, and not that weird Mycroft guy's that was three grades ahead of me. _I sigh for what seems like the twelfth time today and slide down the narrow walls of my newly found, yet depressingly familiar prison. When I reach the ground I mumble "This is going to be a long term." Until I hear someone just outside my locker door. They lean against it and ask if someone is in here. I jump up in excitement, hitting my head on the forgotten low roof atop of me. "Y-Yes! Please help me out! The code is 36-22-28!" I then hear the lock twisting and soon open. I clumsily fall out, accidentally tackling the person that helped me escape. I landed with my face on their stomach. I turned so red that the colour itself couldn't compare to my face. The kind person slid out from under me and stood up gracefully, reaching out a hand to help me up. I was about shoulder hight to them. They wore black skinny jeans with a baggy, dark purple jumper. They were pale with cheek bones that could cut something and a raven coloured mop of thick, curly hair. A few pieces fell onto their face and over the electric storm clouds of eyes that burned a hole through mine. Realising I was staring, I broke the silence. "I-I-I'm John. John Watson. Thanks for helping me mate." I reached out my hand, but this figure merely looked at it before continuing with a smirk and the words,

"Hello. I am Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes." They seemed to be mocking me, but in a playful way. Their voice is neither masculine nor feminine, but that's probably because they look like they are only 11. I suddenly notice that I have no clue if this is a boy or a girl I'm talking to. I give them a quick look-over again, searching for any sign of gender, but I found none. Then I remember they told me their name. _Sherlock. What an unusual name. _Then an idea hits me.

"Sherlock? Isn't that a girl's name?" I cheekily smile, hoping they don't take it in the wrong way.

"Depends on your opinion." They reply. _Damn it. Still clueless. Whatever, I guess it doesn't matter._

"So where are you off to Sherlock?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. They reply,

"Advanced Maths. How about you?" _Okay, they're clever. At least we have that in common._

"With Mr. Messer?" Sherlock looks shocked but replies with a nod. "That's where I'm heading right now. Want to walk there together, seeing as we're both officially late?" I suggest, trying not to sound too needy. I'm just intrigued by this being. Curious, if you will, to learn more about them and what made their eyes turn such a hardened colour. They don't reply, but we continue walking together anyway, so I guess this person can tolerate my presence.

When we reach the classroom, we can luckily sneak to our seats without the instructor noticing. We sit right next to each other in the back corner with an empty table by us in all directions. _Good, nobody to disturb our future conversations._ I glance at Sherlock, who seems to be texting, and think maybe this year won't be so bad after all. Perhaps I thought it too loudly because as soon as the thought crossed my mind, Sherlock gave me a strange look, almost like I was eating a kitten. After a while though, they turned their attention back to texting and I turned my attention to figuring out how to think in a much quieter fashion.


	2. Chapter 2

**_THANK YOU ALL WHO READ, FAVOURITED, FOLLOWED, AND REVIEWED! I love you all so bloody much! No trigger warnings for this chapter, so read at your will. :)_**

**_JOHN'S POV_**

Class droned on and on for centuries, until the bell called the hour and the students bursted through the much too narrow doors. It was now lunch break. I walked down the hall, twisting and turning until I found my locker once again. I mastered getting my lunch bag out in a total 4 seconds, so as to slim the chances of being trapped again. I casually floated through the aisles of students. Luckily, nobody seemed to notice me. I was thinking about that Sherlock kid the entire trip to the canteen. I soon spotted my usual table with the maths nerds and sat in silence as they discussed some sort of equation I had no interest in. Truthfully, I was more fond of literature and art than maths. I only sat with these dorks because they were the only people that seemed to tolerate me. _Except Sherlock. Sherlock tolerates me just fine._ That's when I noticed Sherlock sitting alone just a few tables over. I stood quietly and walked over to them. Before I could reach the newly found friend, however, I noticed something that is a clue in my gender investigation. Girls were snickering at Sherlock, and seemed to be talking trash about them. Noting that boys tease boys and girls tease girls, I think I found out which gender Sherlock actually was. Female. _Wow. I've never had a lady friend before. That settles it. I'm going to talk to her. Besides, she is kind of cute. You know, for an eleven year old._

"Hi, Sherlock." I say as I plop down in the seat next to her, pulling out my sandwich, apple, and water. Sherlock only lifts her eyes for a second before mumbling a _hello_ sounding noise. Seeing her immersed in a book, I get curious. "What are you reading?" I ask in a sing-song kind of way. Sherlock rolls her eyes and closes the book.

"I _was_ reading The Hobbit, but now that you're here, I guess I have to stop." she seemed agitated, but in a kind way (if that was even possible). I smile to smash any tension between us. She soon smirks back.

"Now, I've only known you for a couple hours, so if we're going to be friends, I need to know more about you." Sherlock gave me a puzzled look before retorting,

"I don't have _friends_, John." Her face contorting into one of disgust as she spat out the words. Her words said a lot, but I didn't totally buy them.

"Yes you do. Or at least, you would if you didn't shove anyone and everyone away before getting to know them." I smiled sadly. Sherlock was, or appeared to be, impressed with my newly found confidence. Just as I was getting up to walk away, thinking she obviously wanted to be alone, she suddenly grabbed my arm. I turned to see she hasn't looked up from the table. With a distant look in her eyes, she blindly said,

"No, I don't have friends. I just have one." Then she dug her eyes deep into mine in the most apologetic way humanly possible. "I think the best way to get to know each other, seeing as we're friends, is a questioning game. I ask one, then you ask one, and so on." I sat back down and smiled with my eyes.

"Okay. You go first then."

"Alright. How old are you?" She placed her hands under her chin in a praying fashion and I blindly answered,

"13. How about you?"

"11" I smirked at my accurate deduction. Then she asked me something I thought I kept well hidden. "How long have you been cutting yourself?" My eyes fell to the depths of hell and my heart sunk to the basement. Her eyes shoved into me in an almost bored way.

"H-how? How did you know?" Sherlock played a bit of a smile before hiding it faster than I hid my wrists.

"Your shirt." She said, like it was obvious.

"My. Shirt. Okay, what?" I was flustered and it was clear in my voice.

"Your shirt. It is long sleeve on a hot summer day in a school with no air conditioning."

"How do you know I don't just like long sleeves?"

"I thought of that, but then I noticed the way you subconsciously trace lines on your wrist. Also, you constantly pull your sleeve down, even though no scars are visible. You're paranoid for someone to see your arm. Your choice of style isn't the most popular, so you probably get bullied. Plus, I found you in your locker earlier, so bullying confirmed. It was simple deduction that you cut yourself." My face fell even further before quickly turning into one of fascination.

"That's a neat trick. Do you think you can teach me?" Sherlock was surprised, like she never received that reaction before, and then replied in the cockiest way,

"Sure. Though I assure you, you will not be nearly as good as I am." She smiled a snarky smile.

"You're on." I said as I accepted the unspoken challenge. Just at that moment of pure friendship between the two of us, Anderson came up behind me and dumped milk down my shirt. I jumped up in a panic before turning to him and punching him square in the jaw so hard it hurt my hand. He fell backwards, and as he was going to stand he said,

"You're going to regret that, faggot." He cocked back his arm before letting it shoot into my nose. I felt it bleeding, but it didn't seem broken. Before I could retaliate the action, a teacher monitoring us came up and scurried Anderson off. She asked if I wanted to see the nurse, but I said no.

"Pinching the bridge and looking down helps stop the bleeding." Sherlock said. I almost forgot she was there.

"Oh. Thanks." I began doing as she instructed, but it wasn't really working. She gave me an empathetic look before saying,

"Here, let me." Then she put her hand on mine and I could feel sparks. She guided my fingers to the proper spot on my nose and pinched. "Like this." Our faces were a mere few centimetres apart, our foreheads nearly touching. That's when Jim Moriarty came up and shoved my head sideways, successfully parting Sherlock and I. As I was readjusting my position, I saw Jim whisper something in Sherlock's ear.

"What was that?" I ask, sounding clingier than planned.

"Oh, nothing. Don't worry about it." Sherlock replied. I was still curious, but dropped it as it was obvious she wouldn't tell me anything. I piped up,

"Do you want to hang out after school today? We can do whatever you wanted to do." I am hopeful that she'll say yes.

"Umm sure. Why not. Meet me at my brother's locker after the last bell so I can let him know where I'll be at and who I'll be with. It's number 283."

"Okay. See you then." I say, attempting to be cool about it, but probably sounding like a 12 year old fan girl meeting One Direction. I walk off to my next class. _Ugg, it's French._ I see Sherlock following me. As it turns out, we have the next _three_ classes together. _At least I get to see her most of the day. _As we did in first hour, we sat together in the far back corner with at least one empty table in each direction. We spoke about Lord Of The Rings, Star Trek, and occasionally Sherlock brought up quantum physics. Then we had to part for the last period. _At least I get to see her once this is done. _

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_**Did you enjoy? Review! It gives me the courage to keep updating! Love you all, and be safe tonight! :)**_

_**~ CharlieWhatsHisFace**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_Thank you everyone who is reading, favourited it, reviewed, and is following! I get so smiley when I see you all enjoying it! Here is the third chapter! No trigger warnings, but there is some kissing. Oh la la. Hope you enjoy! Next chapter coming soon._**

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**_SHERLOCK'S POV_**

_'I hate rugby' _I thought as I sulked on the bench waiting for someone to pick me for their team. As usual, nobody did and I was water boy, which I was more than content with. That is, until halfway through class when somebody got hurt. _Geoff, I think his name was. That overly chippy boy with the dark hair and light eyes. Abused at home, feels the need to be overly kind so as to avoid rejection. Mum recently left because the abuse became too much. Getting extra beatings as of late, on the verge of breaking because of it. Typical._ Then a loud shout followed by snickering interrupted my stream of conscious.

"OI, I SAID YOU'RE IN, HOLMES!" The instructor repeated in a particularly annoying tone. I stood and looked over both teams quickly. Then the coach answered my unasked question. "Moriarty's team." He said as he pinched the bridge of his beak-like nose, wrinkling his forehead even more so than usual, which almost seemed like an impossibility.

I walked over to the only person I could tolerate on the team: the captain, Jim Moriarty. He had the same ability I posses. The ability to notice. I was better at it than he was, but it had always been close game when we played deductions in privet. You see, he is popular. I used to be, but then I realised exactly how stupid everyone else was and couldn't help but point it out. Now being seen near me is the equivalent to having the black plague. Therefore, we meet in secret late at night. Not even my older brothers know about it.

I stood as far away as possible from the match without my teacher noticing that I wasn't playing. _Moron. Can't even keep track of such a trivial thing as your pathetic job. Oh well. It keeps me from having to participate without affecting my card markings. _

After I had been to visit Lucifer and came back to the land of the living, the coach's whistle finally blew and we all went in to shower. I didn't shower, seeing as I didn't sweat for lack of actual physical activity. Also, I wanted to change into my normal clothing as fast as possible so I could meet with Jim before John found Mycroft's locker. I purposely gave him the wrong locker number so he would be a bit delayed. The reason I committed such a horrid crime? At lunch, Jim whispered to me to meet him behind the tree by the football field right after school. I don't really know why he wanted to see me so soon, but whatever, right?

I went to the place Jim told me to meet him, and waited for less than a minute for him to show up. I turned to him and started saying,

"Hi, Jim. Why did you wa-" but I was cut off by a kiss. An actual kiss. On my mouth. With his mouth. And our lips touching. And it was glorious. My first kiss and it was with someone as amazing as James Moriarty. It ended much to soon. He pulled his lips from mine and looked me innocently in the eyes before slamming his lips to mine once again. This time much more demanding and heavy. He twirled his fingers in my hair, pulling my face closer to his. Then I snaked my arms around his waist and finally started kissing him back with just as much fire pouncing from my mouth. Once more, he broke the kiss. Only this time, rather than an innocent look plastered to his beautiful face, he carried one of distortion, malice, and mischief. Then he sung two words before prancing away,

"Thought so." _Thought so? What does he mean?_ I thought to myself before I remembered John. I looked to my wrist to learn the time, and gasped at its lying hands. Only it wasn't lying. School ended 15 minutes ago. That means I was kissing Jim for 15 minutes, almost uninterruptedly. My skin shivered at the thought of his tongue in my throat for that long. _I should probably try finding John now._ I began running towards the hell some call a place of education. Just as I entered the doors, I crashed into Mycroft.

"Does this belong to you, Sherlock dear?" He said in his overly calm yet obviously annoyed tone as he gestured towards John. _What the hell is going on?_

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**_DID YOU LIKE IT?! Let me know! I love you all! _**

**_~ Charlie Fergal_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all who followed, favourited, and reviewed! I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! So this chapter has no trigger warnings, so no worries for all the delicate rose buds reading this. :) THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER FROM JOHN'S POINT OF VIEW. ENJOY!**

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_**JOHN'S POV**_

Art is my favourite class of the day. Not only does it signify the end of my classes, but is also a genuine interest of mine. Today we began drawing our self portraits. I only managed to finish drawing the shape of my head by the end of the period. I was in a daze thinking about what Sherlock and I would do after school. _We could go to the cinema. Or maybe she wants to go to the library. Or maybe just walk around and get to know each other better._

My thoughts were abruptly ended by a spit ball slamming into and successfully sticking to the back of my neck. I angrily whipped it from my body and to the floor, glaring at a snickering Anderson. _If only looks could kill. That jerk would be dead 1,000 times. _Just then, before I got up to punch Anderson in the face for the second time today, the bell called me to the hall to find Sherlock and her brother. _Locker 283, here I come. _

I trolled the corridors for seemingly endless time. It had actually been all of 5 minutes. I didn't find the locker by that time, but Jim Moriarty did bump into me. I spewed out words before I could stop my tongue.

"Oi, watch it, mate!" And I immediately did a mental face-palm. He turned and glared at me with a look much blacker than I could ever conjure. He looked as if demons would run and hide from the pure hatred tattooed to his black, soulless eyes.

"Look, Watson, I don't have time to deal with you right now." He spat before grabbing my shirt collar and slamming me in the nearest locker left partially open. _The second time locked in a locker on the first day. I'm off to an excellent start this term._ Sadly it wasn't my locker this time, so I was at the mercy of whoever open the newly shut door. _I wonder what Moriarty was in such a rush for. _Then I heard the dial on the claustrophobic prison I was in, and chocked on my fear. But when the door opened,

"You again?" My voice rose an entire octave as I asked in shock. It was that weird older boy from last year. _Mycroft, I think is his name._

"Ah yes. John, isn't it?" He spoke in a tone that put posh kids to shame.

"Umm, yeah. Sorry man, I was looking for someone and that jerk Moriarty locked me in here. Please don't think I'm stalking you." Red once again creeped to my checks and spread across my face like a skin disease. _How could this be any more embarrassing?_

"I understand." Short pause as he looked me up and down quite quickly. "Who is it you are looking for?" He almost seemed like he already knew.

"Sh-Sher-Sherlock Holmes. Why?" I stuttered.

"I can help you in your search. I know exactly where Sherlock is." The confusion was clear on my face. "Let me clarify. I am Sherlock's older brother, Mycroft Holmes." Okay, this just got more embarrassing.

"Oh. Umm, sure. I could use some help, I guess." Smiling weakly, Mycroft and I walked down towards the front doors of the school. "So how old are you, Myc?"

"It's Myc**roft**, if you could bare struggling to the end of it. And I am 15 soon to be 16." I nod in a knowing fashion, though I thought him to be much older, honestly.

We soon reach the doors, but before I could open them, Sherlock came bursting through the barriers, successfully knocking me to the floor and colliding face first with Mycroft. Sherlock was dazed, but Mycroft seemed completely unbothered.

"Does this belong to you, Sherlock dear?" And he waved his hand to me. Without sparing me a glance, Sherlock and Mycroft looked over each other in the same scanning way, as if they where machines or something from a sci-fi programme. Mycroft continued,

"How sweet, by the way, that you're growing up. Who was it?" Sherlock, rather than answering the strange question, retorted,

"I could ask you the same. I bet it was that Lestrade boy, wasn't it? The one that was held back? Repeatedly abused at home by the father. Since his mum just left, he would need some compassion. Someone to-" Mycroft cut her off in the coldest voice I have ever heard.

"Sherlock, dear. You and I both know I am not prone to acts of compassion." And with that both of their faces made stones look emotional. I could cut through bone with this tension.

"Well, Mycroft, Sherlock and I are going out together right now if that's okay?" I lost my confidence as my sentence dragged on. Sherlock smiled and continued for me.

"Yes. John and myself were going to go to the cinema. We will be back to the house at 6.00 this evening."

"6.00? That's a bit late for just seeing a film. Are you sure that's all you two are going to do?" The innuendo was obvious on Mycroft's mouth. Sherlock, undeterred, replied,

"We are going to go on a walk after. Through the park." And before waiting for a reply, she took my hand and we left Mycroft behind. _This is going to be a fun date._ I wasn't entirely sure if that thought was supposed to be sarcastic or not. _Just relax. It will be fantastic._

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**Did you like it? LET ME KNOW! By the way, sorry about the short chapter again. Next will be longer, I promise. And yes, more kissing will occur. Ooooo**

**~ Charlie Fergal**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Thank you all who reviewed, followed, favourited, and read! It is so FANTASTIC to know so many people like it so far! No trigger warnings, but more kissing. Ooo intense. Next chapter to be posted soon._**

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**_John's POV_**

Sherlock is leading us to the cinema. Well, more like dragging me because she is walking so fast. _It is probably because she is so much taller than me, to be honest._ When we go to the room to see the film, I notice that it already began. I am not even aware what we're seeing. Honestly I'm just excited to be in close proximities with Sherlock. I ended up staring at her rather than actually watching the weird chick flick she seemed so invested in. I want to remember every detail of her.

Before I knew it, the film was over and she was getting up to leave. It took a minute for me to realise what was happening before I too stood.

"Off to the park then." I said and Sherlock just hummed her _yes_ instead of wasting breath. After about 2 minutes of awkward silence, I suggested something.

"Why don't I play some music while we walk? I have my phone with me." Sherlock smirked and, without looking to me, said,

"Sure. Listen to whatever you want I'm not picky." I took out my phone and pressed the shuffle button on my music collection. The song that instantly blared from the tiny boom box was not what I was expecting. I was hoping for something like Good Charlotte's 'I Don't Want To Be In Love'. Instead, 'Don't Call Me Peanut' by Bayside started playing. I was embarrassed at my taste in depressing music. Sherlock, however, was impressed as she finally faced me and spoke,

"You listen to Bayside too? I love them!" The excitement evident on her face.

"Yeah, I really like them. I didn't know anyone else knew of their existence." I said as I nervously laughed and rubbed the back of my neck. We both smile and walk in a comforting bubble of bliss as we listen to clinical depression put into song form. I don't think I've ever been happier. _The irony, oh the irony. _

We reached the park, but we didn't stop walking. The two of us were having much to fun a time talking to each other about how stupid some people can be and how the world needs to go through a great purification to rid of all the unworthy peasants we are consistently forced to be around. As our laughter began to simmer down from the obvious similarities in humour, Sherlock stopped walking all of the sudden and looked very serious.

"Why are you so sad?" Her expression was unreadable, and mine was hollow.

"What do you mean?" I said with a broken voice and empty soul.

"You're sad. Your eyes are heavy, you self-harm, and your laugh is shallow. Why?" I snorted and turned to walk off.

"I don't need this right now." I was visibly angry. Before I could get away, however, Sherlock grabbed me by the arm the same way she did in lunch earlier.

"John. I'm sorry. Forgive me." My gaze softened.

"Of course, sorry. I just...can we not talk about this? I really...I just can't." Tears were now dwindling in my eyes.

"Whatever you need." It was then that I noticed how close we were standing. She was so innocent looking, and I was about ready to kiss her when her mobile went off.

"It's Mycroft. I need to take it, sorry." And with that she grabbed her phone and began a conversation. Neither of us back away though. We just stood as close as we could without touching each other.

"Fine, Mycroft. I will be there soon." Slamming her phone into her pocket and scowling at the ground, she mumbled at the pavement.

"I have to go do something for my brother."

"Oh okay, that's fine." I was probably desperate looking because her next question baffled me.

"Would you like to come with me?" Her words were asking, but her storm-cloud eyes demanded I say yes.

"Uhh sure. Where are we going?"

"My house. You're staying the night, so call your mum. We need to solve a case for a friend of Mycroft."

"Okay? Who is this friend?" Shocked by the forcefulness in her voice.

"Her name is Molly Hooper. Warning though, she is a bit awkward and flirtatious. Especially with me. Even though I have told her on numerous occasions that I don't date anyone. Not girls, not boys." _Sherlock doesn't date? I have some thinking to do later. For now, Molly Hooper. I think I know who she is. Nerd from biology, and a massive teacher's pet. Maybe I could get her with my sister Harry. They would be cute together._

"Okay. Let's go then." I interrupted my own train of thought.

"My brother is going to pick us up in about 2 minutes right here."

"Ummm, alright. Let's wait here then." _And there goes my nervous gerbil laugh. Fantastic. _Just then, a sleek black car pulled up and both of us got in. Sitting in the backseat facing us was Mycroft.

"Oh Mycroft, you are so predictable." Sherlock teased. Mycroft scanned my figure and looked to Sherlock with his overly posh face before replying,

"Oh I could say the same, Sherlock." Their glares were physically exhausting me. I decided to speak up.

"So Molly Hooper. What does she need?" I settled for a safe question and change in topic.

"Someone stole her biology notes and she needs them for revision. We are supposed to find out who took them, and get them back without getting caught." Sherlock replied, obviously trying to suppress excitement.

"Why can't we just tell the head master? I'm sure that would be much easier."

"Because, **John**, where is the thrill of the chase in that?" Rather than opening my mouth, I just nodded and looked out the window. We were all silent for a 10 minute ride when we reached Sherlock's house. It looked warm and welcoming, the complete opposite of the two Holmes boys.

When we walked in, I saw the house was all autumn colours with family portraits scattered about on shelves and walls precariously. None of the portraits seemed up to date though. The one with the youngest image of Sherlock was when she was about 2 and the one she was oldest in was when she was about 5.

I was soon enough dragged up to Sherlock's room. It had black walls with dark wood floors. Her wardrobe had several posters on it so it was quite difficult to tell which colour it was. I did notice that she liked the same music as myself, using the wardrobe as reference. On her cabinet by her bed was an alarm clock, shadeless lamp, and a human skull. _Alrighty then. _Her bed matched the walls. Black sheets with a black frame. _I should stop staring and call my mum now._..I see Sherlock sitting at a desk I failed to notice earlier with her hands in prayer form and her brow furrowed in deep thought.

"Can I use your mobile, Sherlock? Mine only has 2% battery left." Without moving, she responded,

"Yes, it's in my back pocket." She didn't appear to move still so I asked her,

"Can you get it for me then?"

"No. I'm thinking. Get it yourself." Judging by the fact she had yet to move, I decided to just go in her back pocket and get the phone. _Relax. Sherlock doesn't date, this is totally platonic._ My face was glowing embarrassment as my hand slid over into her jean pocket and grabbed her phone. She somehow still seemed unmoved. _It's like she is on another planet._

I called my mum and told her where I was. She just sighed and said something along the lines of 'be safe'. As I closed the phone and put it on the desk in front of the frozen Sherlock, I heard a knock on the bedroom door. Figuring Sherlock wouldn't get it, I walked over and opened the wooden barrier slowly. It was a person I didn't recognise. He looked older than Mycroft, but not by much. His smile was kind and his eyes a warm chestnut colour.

"Hi. I'm Sherrinford, Sherlock's oldest brother. Is the little genius thinking again?

"Yeah. I'm John by the way. John Watson." I extended my hand and he shook it with a firm grasp. _It's weird, this Holmes child seemed normal. Normal intelligence level, normal human emotions, just normal_.

"Nice to meet you, John. If you get the chance, can you tell Sherlock that Jimmy is here and says it's important?"

"Yeah sure. See you around then, Sherrinford."

"Yeah you too." And with that he walked away. I decided to snap Sherlock out of her coma. I began waving a hand in front of her face while yelling,

"Sherlock? SHERLOCK? Alright I'm done being nice." And I threw a pillow at her face. She fell out of her chair and finally returned to the land of the living.

"What was that for?!" She stood and yelled. I smiled and delivered Sherrinford's message.

"Oh okay, I'll be right back then. I have to deal with this in privet." She walked out of the room and I heard her feet sprint down the stairs.

I went off to the toilet while I waited for Sherlock to get back. I had been gone a mere 5 minutes when I walked back into Sherlock's room. What I saw when I walked in was terrifying and disturbing. Sherlock was pinned against the wall and Jim Moriarty had his face firmly pressed against hers. It was the most intense snog session I have ever seen. Before I could close my mouth, I yelled,

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Sherlock and Moriarty parted. Sherlock looked terrified and embarrassed while Jim looked satisfied and arrogant.

"Explain. NOW." I said.

"It's just an experiment, John! I swear!" Sherlock pleaded. Jim interrupted her saying,

"Oh we were experimenting alright." With a sly face. He turned from my gaze back to Sherlock's and kissed her on the lips quickly once again.

"See you soon, Sherlock." He then walked off, bumping me in the process. I rolled my eyes at Jim's lack of respect for my existence. Then I looked to Sherlock and was concerned.

"Sherlock are you okay? You look ill." Skipping the question, she blurted,

"Can we still be friends? Even thought was kissing him?" Sherlock seemed desperate.

"Yes of course. I would never hate you for having a boyfriend."

"Thanks for being so accepting, John. Don't tell anyone about Jim and I though. He isn't ready to let anyone know."

"Of course not. Your secret is safe with me." I smiled sadly, and Sherlock replied with kind eyes for the first time.

"Thank you, John." And then she KISSED ME ON THE CHEEK! Yes I was feeling broken about Jim getting to do that to her, but her kiss seemed to make it all okay again. My brain started telling me something positive for once. _Ha! And everyone calls you a queer. Boy, are they wrong! You have a crush on a certain lady named Sherlock._

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**_DID YOU LIKE IT? LET ME KNOW! I love you all and thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed :3_**

**_~Charlie Fergal_**


	6. Chapter 6

**_THANK YOU ALL WHO READ, FOLLOWED, REVIEWED, AND FAVOURITED! No trigger warnings, but some interesting discoveries. Enjoy!_**

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**_Sherlock's POV_**

I am so happy that John doesn't care about Jim and I being together. Even if Jim and I aren't really together. It's all just experimenting. I'm not even gay. To be truthful, I do not know what my sexual orientation is. I'm only 11 after all. I don't know why, but I am drawn to John. It weirds me out especially because he is so normal. So ordinary. I hate having all of these unknowns. I need answers.

"Sherlock, you're doing it again!" I snapped my head to face John. I'm sitting at my desk thinking, and he is standing in front of me with a pillow ready to be thrown in my direction.

"Sorry" I reply, "I was thinking. What is it you needed to tell me?" He looked to me a questioning glare before rolling his eyes in defeat and delivering a message from my mum.

"Your mum wants to know if you're eating tonight. She said she is making mashed potatoes, meatballs, and corn." _He was obviously hungry._

"Yes I will eat. Let's go down now, yes?"

"Sure." He paused, clearly debating if he should ask me something. It surprised me when he ended up asking, despite his discomfort.

"Do you eat? Like, you're freaky skinny, and the way your mum asked if you were eating, I don't think you eat as often as you should." I smirked, but he continued,

"I'm serious! If you're anorexic, then you need to get help."

"I'm not anorexic, John. I don't eat often because digestion slows me down." He was confused, but accepted it and moved on.

Supper was going quite well at first. I had a small plate of potatoes and John had a little bit of everything. Then people started speaking. My mum to be specific.

"So John, will you be staying the night?"

"Yes, if that's alright with you." He replied calmly. Just wait, it gets bad right here.

"No kissing my baby. Sherlock is very important to me and I don't want any shenanigans going on up there." John and I simultaneously choked on our food. I whined,

"Oh my gosh, **Mum** stop!" And John then said,

"Wait, are Sherlock and I sleeping in the same room then?" My mum was confused and informed him.

"Why of course you are! That's what you do at slumber parties, isn't it? Stay up all night and talk about boys together?" We choked again. John was offended.

"I'm not gay!" He yelled. I interjected,

"Neither am I!"

John was confused as to why I said this, and it took me a moment to put the pieces together. I tuned out the rest of the meal and climbed into my mind to think. _John was disgusted with being called gay, but didn't react when he saw me kissing another boy. That and he is oddly comfortable having a crush (yes, I know he has a crush) on me. Let's see, what else. He thought we would sleep in separate rooms, which is strange, and he -OH MY GOSH OF COURSE! John thinks I'm a lady. Well, I'm not exactly manly, so I can see why he would make that deduction. Hmmm. I can have some fun with this. _I smirk like the devil and return to Earth. The table was cleared and John was looking to me like he was waiting for me to do something. I finally realised he wanted me to go with him to my room._ Let the "make John aware he likes boys" plan begin._

**_John's POV_**

I was staring at Sherlock and calling her name for a good 3 minutes before her mum, who was clearing the table, finally said something.

"Geniuses can be like that sometimes, John. It has nothing to do with you."

"I never said it had anything to do with me." She smiled bashfully and said,

"Of course. My mistake." There was a short pause before I said something that has been bothering me.

"So I keep hearing people call Sherlock a genius. I don't see it. I see a very clever person, but not a genius." She merely sighed and replied,

"You must not have known each other very long then." I shrugged and looked back to Sherlock, attempting to call out her name one last time. She smirked a dark smirk this time round. _It looked like Moriarty was possessing her. That's scary as hell. _She stopped looking like Satan and looked to me. Shortly after, she stood gracefully and we went up to her room.

When we reached the desired destination, Sherlock sat on her bed and patted the open spot next to her. When I sat down, she moved closer to me. So close that our thighs were touching, nearly overlapping. Then she pulled out her mobile and pulled up a few photographs of teens in our grade. She was talking about possible suspects for our investigation about Molly Hooper's notes. After about 5 people, she looked at me, her eyes delving so deep into my soul that I nearly coughed it up for her. Our noses were a few centimetres apart and the angst in the air was heavier than the weight of 12 Earths. We were both leaning in. _Oh gosh this is really going to happen. My first kiss. Oh wow. Oh gosh. Oh goodness. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? _

"John? I asked you who you thought did it." _She wasn't going to kiss me? Oh_...

"Well, I think that Sally girl did it. She isn't very clever, and she seems like the stealing type."

"That's who I thought of as well. We can work out how to get the notes back tomorrow. For now, let's have fun." She jumped up to her feet and clapped her hands together, pacing the room excitedly.

"Okay. What should we do?" I asked. She replied casually,

"Do you want to play video games?"

"Sure! You know, I've never met a girl that likes video games before."

"Well today is your lucky day."

After about an hour and a half of playing Portal 1 and 2, we stopped gaming. I needed to figure out where I was sleeping, what I was going to sleep in, and what I was going to wear to school tomorrow.

"Hey Sherlock, do you have a spare mattress for me to sleep on? If not, the floor is fine, but I need some sheets." Her answer shocked me.

"You can just sleep in my bed. There is plenty of room for the two of us. I also have a pair of pyjamas you can borrow if you'd like. They are black bottoms with a grey tee-shirt." She paused, scanned my form, and continued.

"You can also use some clothing of mine for school tomorrow. I know it's been bugging you on how to ask me."

"I don't even want to know how you knew that. But that all sounds fine. Yes, quite good." I awkwardly paused.

"Could you go get the pyjamas now please? I'm kind of tired after today..."

"Yes of course. Be right back." She slipped out of the room and came ack before I could even form a train of thought.

"That was fast."

"I have them on hand just in case. You know how it goes." I don't know what she's talking about, but I don't care. I pop out to the loo to get changed. When I came back, Sherlock already changed into a white tee-shirt and baggy grey checkered bottoms. _She looks even thinner now that I can see her arms and collar bones. I'm concerned about her weight._

We crawled into bed together, my head on one end and hers on the other. _This is going to be the most awkward night sleep I have ever had._

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**_Did you like it? LET ME KNOW! As always, you guys are fabulous, I love you, and be safe tonight. Next chapter coming soon._**

**_~ Charlie Fergal_**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Hey guys! Sorry the chapter is late :( reason is in the notes at the bottom. This chapter does have self harm (cutting) trigger warnings. It also has some fluffy kissing ;) be safe while reading! I love you all, enjoy!_**

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**_SHERLOCK'S POV_**

John and I are laying in my bed, our heads on opposite ends. About 8 minutes have past and John is still tense. _Probably because he is in bed with someone he thinks is a girl, and that "girl" happens to be his current crush._ John speaks and the silence is broken.

"You know, now that I'm laying down, I'm not tired." I raise a brow in confusion to his words.

"What do you mean?" We are now sitting up facing each other, the duvet still pulled up to our waists.

"It's like, as soon as I lay down, my brain turns on and won't let me sleep. Hasn't that ever happened to you?" He isn't tense anymore. _Interesting_.

"Not that I can recall. To be completely truthful, I don't sleep all that often. So when I do lay down, it is because I am not able to function at full capacity. I usually fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow." I say with a chuckle and a casual smile. _Let's see how comfortable I can make him._ He leans slightly forward, putting his hands in his lap with his elbows on his knees.

"I wish I could do that." He paused shortly before clarifying, "Fall asleep quickly, I mean."

Silence envelopes us once more, but it is calm. A comfortable lack of sound, if you will. Assuming we are not going to sleep anytime soon, I erect my spine, cracking every vertebrae on the way up. I reach for the light switch and ready my eyes for the blinding hug of photons upon my corneas. A few moments pass before John and I adjust to the newly lit room. Suddenly, I get an idea. _This is sure to speed up my plan_.

"Hey John, since we aren't going to sleep for a bit, do you want to play truth or dare?" My voice is innocent, but my eyes warn him to proceed with caution.

"Yeah sure! That sounds fun. No chickens, and I get to ask you first. Those are my terms."

"Fair enough. I choose truth." I casually dismiss his demands. _I must be the dominate one. Otherwise, this plan might not work._ He pauses to think briefly, but I can tell he knows what he wants to ask.

"Okay. Ignoring any and all relationships you are/have been in, who would you want to date and why?" _He is oddly pleased with himself for asking such a vague question. Oh well, move forward the plan._

"Obviously Jim. He's cute, sweet, kind, and he really cares about me and everyone around him. He kind of reminds me of you." That's sure to hit a few nerves. I can already feel his brain cringing.

"Right. Well, that's your opinion." He is so obviously upset. If I didn't know better, I'd say I am feeling guilty. He continues, "I choose truth."

"Hmm. Why do you cut yourself? And remember, no chickens as per your rule." His face saddens. _I am going to have to start keeping track of all the expressions he has. They're so cute._

"I have a-umm-a thing. In my head. I'm not mentally ill, I don't have a rough home life, I've never had a real hardship...I just feel guilty. About my existence." John's eyes are empty, and I don't think he is talking to me anymore. Rather just talking. Like it's procedure. He continues, "I hate myself, but not because of who I am or who I'm not. I hate that I'm alive, but I'm not suicidal. I don't do it for control, I don't do it for relief, I do it because I don't know what else to do. It's like I'm here, but nobody sees me. I don't want attention, I want to be acknowledged...I don't know. It sounds stupid, but that's because it is stupid. And I'm sorry for the rubbish explanation, but it's because there really isn't and explanation that I can give you."

I crawl to him from my position on the bed and get my mouth inches from his. I can see his blushing cheeks, his sad eyes, and every detail of his face. _He is perfect. _I don't kiss him though. I can't. I just go for the awkward hug that everybody knows wasn't originally going to be a hug, and pat him on the back. _OH YOU MORON! Why did you pat his back?! What are you, his father? Damn I'm stupid sometimes._

We pull apart and I clear my throat awkwardly. We both knew what I was going to do rather than hug John, but interestingly enough, neither of us wanted to point it out. I glance at the boy in front of me, and notice that he looks sad. _No. Not sad. Disappointed. Hmm. Maybe the hug WAS the right move...I will never understand people's emotions_.

"SHERLOCK?" I am slapped back to reality by the voice of my - friend?

"Sorry, what?" I ask in a dazed manor.

"Truth or dare?" John is agitated by my lack of an attention span. That much is clear.

"Dare." I dismissed his emotions with the tone of my voice.

"Oh, okay...how about this? I dare you to wear pink to school tomorrow. Your entire wardrobe consists of black and purple, and that's depressing." I interject,

"It's not _**depressing**_, it's **DRAMATIC**!" As I flip an imaginary scarf over my shoulder. John chuckles,

"Whatever, weirdo! You still have to do it!" I shrug and pretend like I don't care, but I do. Pink is obnoxious and attention-seeking. _Everything I'm not. _I continue our game.

"Truth or dare?"

"I guess I'll go with dare since I did truth last time." John rubbed his neck nervously. _Take a mental picture. That is adorable._

"I dare you to wear all black with thick eyeliner tomorrow. Since I have to be peppy, you have to be goth." I fold my arms in triumph like the immature toddler my family says I am. John is reacting the same way I reacted to the pink thing.

"Alright. Well, tomorrow is sure to be interesting then. If I get beat up, it's your fault." He snidely mutters. Before I could think, my mouth erupted,

"As if your fashion sense is the only reason you get beat up." It wasn't meant to hurt him, but it did. He looks like I tore his lungs out and filled his veins with poison. John was instantly pale. He looked like someone with a terminal disease. Tears welled in his eyes as he bit his lip. I reached my hand to his shoulder to comfort him, but he pulled away. Avoiding possible eye contact by staring at the floor, he whispered words more broken than my heart was for causing this.

"You know, Sherlock, suddenly I'm tired. Can you get the lights? I'm going to sleep now." And with that, John turned to the wall, buried his head in the duvet to muffle his tears, and drifted to a land of fantasy.

I turned out the lights and left for the restroom._ I know he won't want to see me when he wakes up_.

The cold tile floor, flickering fluorescent lights, and leaking faucet always calmed me down enough to think about whatever I needed to. This time, however, the cold tiles, fluorescent lighting, and dripping faucet didn't do a thing. I sat on the floor of my comfort space feeling more uncomfortable than I ever have. I couldn't think. Every time I tried, my mind would go blank and I would just end up staring at the wall. I glance to the clock. _3:28 a.m._ The ticking hands seemed to mock me. _I guess I'll take my shower now. This way John can shower in the morning if he wants to._

I twist the knob. It squeaks like rubber on plastic until I stop turning it. The room quickly floods with steam as I undress. As I enter the heated box of falling water, I finally begin to think. _John's explanation of why he cuts himself made sense. I know all to well what he meant with every word that tumbled from his throat and into the open space of my bedroom. _I trace my finger tips over my veins, contemplating if cutting negativity out would fix my tainted soul. _You sound stupid. Of course self-harm won't help. If anything, it will make it worse...But then again, what do I have to make worse? I hardly feel anything anymore. The little bit I do feel is anger and frustration toward the world and all the slow minds that dwell within it. I don't belong. I never HAVE belonged. I NEVER WILL BELONG._

At that moment, I lost control for the first time. I picked up the razor Mycroft used to shave, and slashed open my dainty arm. I wasn't thinking, so I didn't stop. I kept going and going and going. Soon enough, the water ran cold. I twisted the squeaky knob to its off position and sat on the floor of the once warm cubical. I didn't even try to stop the bleeding. A puddle of crimson-coloured pain and regret coated the tiles as well as my arm and hands. The razor was still clenched between my fingers, slowly splitting open the calluses I have gained from years of violin playing. I am a pitiful sight. And after all of that drama, I still feeling nothing.

**_JOHN'S POV_**

Sherlock turned out the lights like I asked her to, but she left the room afterwards. _She's probably going to the restroom. _I stopped crying after a few tears fell. _Sherlock didn't mean to hurt me, and honestly, I over-reacted to her just trying to be snarky. I should go apologise._ Quickly standing up caused extreme nausea, but I maintained my footing quite nicely if I do say so myself. I walk to the restroom, making a few wrong turns in the hall in the process. By the time I actually found the loo, I heard Sherlock turn on the water for what I presumed to be the shower. _I can apologise in the morning. Off to bed...if I can remember the way..._

I felt like I merely blinked my eyes when the time to wake up came.

"Come on, John; it's 6:30. We have to leave in an hour. The loo is down the hall and to the right. Towels and such are there if you wanted to bathe." _Sherlock's in a bit of a rush. Maybe she's just a morning person. _I roll off of the bed, and it felt like I was leaving the warmth of life into the pits of the underworld. Sherlock is about to take off her shirt to get dressed when she turns to see me.

"You look like death's wife. Not a morning person, I take it?" _She is so considerate today. Weird._ Sherlock continues with a giggle. "And help yourself to my selection of black clothing and eyeliner." _Damn. I completely forgot about that. _I peak out of the corner of my eye to see Sherlock's planned outfit, but notice that she hasn't picked it out yet. Sherlock picks up on my curiosity and says,

"Ah, ah, ah. It's a surprise." I grunt in defeat, grab the first black shirt and pair of jeans I see in her wardrobe, and leave the room in a rush to have a shower.

When I finish the quickest shower I have ever taken, I dry off and go to get dressed. I held up the pair of jeans, and noticed how tiny they looked. _Oh gosh, how on earth are these suppose to go on without having to amputating my feet?...I guess I can try to make them fit..._

I wiggled and jumped around like an idiot for about 5 minutes when I finally got them on. They were a lot more comfortable than I originally thought they would be. I decided to have a look before I put on my shirt. _Hmm. Not bad. They make my butt look pretty good, actually_. Satisfied with my appearance so far, I pick up the shirt I blindly selected from Sherlock's wardrobe. Putting it on made me regret my decision. It didn't look bad, just extremely gay. It was as tight as the jeans, with a fairly deep, but not deep enough to show much more than my collar bones, v-neck top. The sleeves were so short that they covered hardly anything but my shoulder. And on the front, a realistically shaped white heart with several red stab wounds was open and ready to be seen. I pick up the eyeliner that's on the shelf, and don't even bother trying to figure out how to put it on. I walk back to Sherlock's room, looking intensely confused at the pencil thing in my hand. I walked in while asking (more like demanding) Sherlock to help me with the eyeliner. Mid-sentence, however, I bust out laughing at the sight of her outfit. She was in black and pink plaid skinny jeans with a neon pink v-neck top. Both of her arms were covered with brightly coloured bracelets, and her shoes were the classic white converse.

"What's so funny?" Sherlock said, trying to sound offended. She obviously knew how ridiculous she looked when she started joining me in the laughter. Our laughter soon faded and she pointed to my hand with the forgotten-about eyeliner. I picked up on her unasked question.

"Oh. I was wondering if you could help me put it on? I've never worn it before, so I have no clue what to do." She smiled and drug her feet over to me. _If I didn't know better, I would say she is trying to flirt with me._ When she got close enough to my face, she popped her tongue out slightly and asked it I was ready with a slight giggle. _Yep. She is definitely trying to flirt with me. _Instead of trying to speak, I simply choke down my spit and nod nervously.

The whole time she was drawing on my face, uncomfortably close to my actual eyeball, the sexual tension chewed on my heart like it ever has before. Not long after she started drawing, she blurted out,

"All done! 'Tis a master piece!" And she kissed my check playfully. I lost control. Before she could pull to far away from me, I cupped her face and connected our lips softly. It was just as awkward as I imagined my first kiss would be. I missed her mouth by a little bit, but she moved her lips to align with mine and started kissing me back. It only lasted a second or two, but it felt like like so much longer. When we parted, I'm sure I looked like I just walked in on my parents having sex, but she was smiling. That was enough to make me smile contently.

"Ready to go?" She asked so sweet.

"Ready." I smiled back.

On the walk to school, we geeked out about music and gossiped about teachers we have in common. I tried to hold her hand a few times, but she would just slide her's out of mine and pretend like nothing happened. After the third time, I took the hint. 20 minutes of joyous walking later, we saw the school building in front of us. Oddly enough, we both stopped at the same time, dead in our tracks. I think reality hit us in the face. We were both dressed in obnoxious clothing in a school that punished anything and anyone slightly different to the standard, cardboard-cutout child. We gulped the knot in our throats and walked the walk of shame towards the building.

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**_WHAT DID YOU THINK? Let me know by leaving a review!_**

**_By the way, sorry it took so long to post this chapter. I have had some pretty serious health problems get suddenly worse, resulting in emergency surgeries. All is back to normal now though, so expect regular updates again!_**

**_LOVE YOU ALL!_**

**_~ Charlie Fergal_**


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